Ogre? Bulbous nose, large, protruding ears—and a green face. No matter how closely Piers stared, he saw no lines or shading, no crack marks, nothing to indicate makeup or paint.
The fairy. The pixies. The elf. Piers backed up, grasped the handle without looking, and flung the door open. He ran, never looking back. What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Piers shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets, heartbeat and footfalls loud in his ears. What the fuck just happened? He’d only drunk half a beer after work. The few times he’d tried drugs, he’d tripped his ass off over a single pill or half a joint. Seeing an elf and other beings—which he now worried weren’t cosplayers—at the bar, and an ogre in the men’s room, meant saying no for his entire life.
His breath fogged before his face. He should’ve worn a jacket. But no. Getting his jacket meant going back to the breakroom. Maybe he should have taken a cab or Uber home.
Something scuttled in the alley to his right. Oh, shit. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should never be out walking alone at this hour in a spooked frame of mind, even in an area of town deemed relatively safe.
“Who’s there?” he called out. He should’ve brought the pepper spray Jess gave him for Christmas.
“Mrrrooow?” A solid black cat stepped from the mouth of the alley.
Whew. Piers let out a pent-up breath, heart still hammering. A cat. Just a cat. But shouldn’t cats have green or gold eyes? This cat’s appeared orangey-red.
The feline darted over and twined around his legs. Piers reached down and scratched its furry head. “Well, aren’t you a handsome fellow? You are a fellow, aren’t you?”
The cat turned, displaying the proof of his maleness. A cat proud of his balls. Go figure.
Piers squatted, extending a hand. The cat sniffed and butted Piers’ fingers with its head. Ear scratching seemed the only answer to the unvocalized question. “What are you doing out on a cold night all by your lonesome?” He rubbed the cat’s neck. “No collar, so you must be a stray.”
The cat growled. In Piers’ head, he imagined a disdainful,“As if!”
What? Maybe he’d hit his head during all the wild sex last night, which explained everything. He’d never hear the end of Jess’s teasing when he mentioned having a headboard concussion.
Ceiling concussion? No, had to be the headboard. The electricity in the air? Static. Yes. Next sexual encounter? Condoms, lube, anti-static spray.
Maybe a hard hat.
“Mrrrooow?” The cat stared expectantly. At least his eyes no longer appeared red.
No one would ever accuse Piers of being an expert on felines. Still, the critter sounded more like a person imitating a cat than an actual cat.
Piers had never owned a cat besides Kitty, but he’d always thought a pet might be nice. “Since you don’t have anywhere to go, want to come home with me? It’s not much. A roof over my head, a place to sleep. I might even have a can of tuna in the cabinet. What do you say?”
The cat jumped onto Piers’ lap, nearly toppling him. Piers righted himself, gripping the cat, and narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. You don’t have fleas, do you?”
The cat growled again.
“I’ll take that as a no. Okay, handsome kitty, home it is.”
Was the darned cat preening? Then again, Piers always heard cats were vain creatures. The group home of his youth didn’t have pets, but occasionally strays showed up. Piers and Jess slipped them food from her closet horde.
Something shifted at the corner of his vision. Piers whipped his head around. Nothing. The cat headbutted his shoulder. “Oh, sorry.” He resumed the head-scratching. The cat purred again.
Once more, Piers caught a glimpse of movement but turned to see nothing there. “Piers, you’re losing your motherfucking mind.”
Holding his soon-to-be house guest to his chest, he quickened his pace, reaching his apartment building a few minutes later. He pulled his key from his pocket and let himself in the front door.
A sign stated:Elevator out of service.
Fuck. Just his luck to finally get an apartment with an elevator, and he’d still have to climb the stairs.
Six flights.
Good thing the elevator worked the night he’d hauled Jess home drunk from the club.
“Sorry, cat, but the elevator’s out. We’ll have to climb the stairs.” He headed down the hallway, passing by the elevator.
